


Come Back, Come Back, Come Back.

by Meek



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 80's fashion, Angst, Assassination, Ballet, Bucky heavy, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Female Character of Color, Friends to Lovers, Lesbians, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Red Room, Spoilers, Team as Family, Undercover Missions, everyone is crying, irregular updates, nat and yelena train at the same time au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6826819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meek/pseuds/Meek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Civil War Natasha takes time out to decompress.<br/>This revelry is cut short when a series of strange deaths in New York strike an uncomfortably familiar chord, leading her down a path that will force her to confront her past; Yelena, Yasha, and everything that came after.<br/>----------<br/>Framed in the present, but set predominantly in the past.<br/>I'll be playing pretty hard and fast with comic canon.<br/>There are cacw spoilers, so read with caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back, Come Back, Come Back.

**Author's Note:**

> This all began when I saw this drawing by yellowis4happy:  
> http://yellowis4art.tumblr.com/post/133896940546/a-spy-is-very-difficult-to-stop-once-she-has-found  
> Then Civil War set off a whole bunch of ideas, and this is the result.  
> I haven't read a lot of the comics, this work feels more like what my ideal mcu version would manifest as, and is undoubtedly an AU.

 

‘Now you’re just being ridiculous.’

‘I am _not_!’

‘Just tell us how you did it and we’ll leave it alone’

‘I already said!’

The bottom corner of the dormitory was becoming distractingly noisy. But the argument was dumb, and Natalia had been allowed free use of the French dictionary as a reward, she wasn’t about to get invested in a fight that was thoroughly less interesting than what she was already doing.

‘Yelena, it’s starting to stop being funny...’

‘I didn’t steal them!’

‘Well somebody did, extra rations don’t just appear.’

‘That’s not- !’

Natalia spared a glance over to the others, this was recreational time, and they were going to have it revoked if they didn’t shut up soon. She grimaced; _all_ of them would have it revoked.

The problem was clearly centred around Yelena; who whilst new, small and still relatively unused to the way things worked there, was no trouble maker. In fact, this was probably the most Natalia had heard her speak since her arrival.

‘Your friend? Who?’

‘...’

‘What?’

‘He’s called Yasha and you don’t – ’

‘Of course he is...’

‘Wait you’re saying one of the guards helped you with this?’

‘She’s clearly spouting shit – ’

‘ – he’s not a guard!’

‘Then who is he? None of the teachers have that name?’

‘ – Alisa she’s making this up!’

‘I – I don’t know what he is...’

Yelena was pink cheeked with frustration and sounded like she was about to burst into tears. Resigned to it, Natalia set the book down with a sigh and headed over to the group in the corner.

‘What’s going on?’

The girls turned to her in unison. Expressions varying from unimpressed to pleading.

‘Yelena has been stealing extra rations and is blaming a ghost for it.’

Past the point of arguing, Yelena had started to sniffle and look at her shoes.

‘Hmm – maybe she just got his name wrong? Some of the new guards have been known to give out favours before they understand the system, what did he look like Yelena?’

At being thrown a life line Yelena seemed to perk up a little, dabbing her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

‘Ah – big, tall – ’

‘ – how insightful.’

‘Be quiet Polina, go on.’

‘Um, Caucasian, male, ah – dark hair, around 160 – 200lbs approximately and...’

‘And?’

 

and

 

and

 

and

 

_‘And his left arm is made of metal’_

 

Natasha woke with a start, tangled in her sheets.

The bleary milk sun seeped through the crack between the blind and the window ledge, annoying. She placed a careful hand over her eyes, taking full breaths and feeling the adrenaline drain and her heart calm down. It would be a lie to say that Natasha never dreamt of the past, but it was rarely memorable, rarely cohesive, shifting, bleeding shapes in a dark room, the cold, bright, white of the tundra stretching out, unforgiving. But this, this snapshot, perfect, like it had been trapped in amber, it was a deviation from the norm, and though unwelcome, was not entirely unexpected.

Natasha focused on her breathing, careful, careful. With any luck, she could fall back to sleep, and the memory of the dream would evaporate into the warmth of her pillow.

With any luck, at least.


End file.
